This week Emily and Catrin venture to The Cosy Club….
“It’s cosy in here”, said Cat. She was not wrong.
The blood cell inspired red and white lampshades gave a human body feel to the atmosphere. A 1920s-style human body feel. We were sheltered by a bloody red ceiling, in-keeping with the bodily vibes. A good setting for Romanticised blood-donation perhaps. Very Great Gatsby. Very Great Cats-by.
It was a retreat from the madness of our earlier escapade. We had rescued a runaway husky scampering through Princess Hay after its owner temporarily abandoned it for a coffee. No mocha is worth this. We decided given Emily’s one deaf ear situation, whether the dog would be better suited for providing her with direction, balance and just generally helping her not to walk into cars. Cat said, “nothing can cure your lop-sidedness”. Should deaf people have guide dogs? Just something for you all to think about. Email us your thoughts.
Back to the Cosy Club. We were surrounded by artwork – a repeat offender was old Lenin. Cat remarked on the possibilities of Lenin artwork acting as a diversion. For example, given a break-up situation:
“Listen I don’t love you anymore, oh look it’s Lenin!”
This week we were joined by our highly conservative and questionable friend, Will. He provided us with ketchup and another thing to talk about, bearing in mind we still have nothing in common.
Cat went for a milkshake of the nutty variety, combining hazelnut with peanut, after the absence of cinnamon – a devastating blow after a hard day of discovering herself in Devonshire House. Emily went for mango and orange smoothie, whereas Will just went the whole hog and had a bacon sandwich and garlic bread with cheese. Ah, classic Will.
Whilst we waiting for our food, we considered the Cosy Club a suitable venue for an event such as Itchy Feet. However there would have to be a 1920s-style prohibition on drink, in order to preserve the artwork of our socialist savior (all hail Lenin n dat). However we all know you have to have alcohol to have fun. And only boring people say otherwise. Will disagreed, but then again, Will’s boring.
(Obviously we have sacrificed Will as a comedic literary device. This is all for you).
The waitress was very slow, however this fit with the lazy, rhythmic music. It felt like time was going by very, very slowly. Perhaps this was the company or the discussions of mass immigration, whether prisoners should get the vote, ketchup squirting angles and World War II.
On her milkshake arriving, Cat felt the drink was too nutty. Emily retorted: “You asked for nuts Cat. Don’t order them if you haven’t got any yourself.” Emily got through her smoothie in 3 short sips. The size left much to be desired and as we all know, size does matter.
A trip to the toilet was filled with wonderment. Cat’s cubical door was an ex-library door. She felt very intellectual as she weed away. Emily felt intellectual anyway.
Back at the table, discussions ensued such as… does evil exist or are good and bad simply concepts we have created? Did the garlic bread have too much cheese on it? Was the waitress ever going to reach our table? Ironically, we had become the waiters.
It had been an evening filled with deep conversation and deep regret. Too much had been shared, mainly the garlic bread, perhaps our political views (Will’s political views). However we did not regret our decision to visit the Cosy Club. We had grown as friends, transcended our childish conversation and even alienated the waitress in our ferocious intellectual debate. She was left asking: “I’m just hanging around here. Are any of you actually going to pay?”
We did end up paying, as we are honest men in an honest world. There is good and bad in all of us. The world is not divided by binaries. Nothing is simple. Nothing is easy. But the Cosy Club is cosy.
Catrin Hughes and Emily Harris, Lifestyle Columnists
Featured Image Credit: mattaustinimages.wordpress.com, all other images are the columnists own.bookmark me